[NetBehaviour] _arc.hive_ ----------------------Dying--------------------

Fri Apr 3 18:53:17 CEST 2015

I read the article cited, and it's very logicality undermines it; it 
speaks from what seems to be a system of logical paradoxes, but it 
overlooks the issues of interiority that someone like Kristeva would deal 
well with, not to mention Sartre and the idea of the project. Death is not 
a reasoning, it is that interiority...

- Alan

On Fri, 3 Apr 2015, Bj?rn Magnhild?en wrote:

> "so so, there""so-so"
> 
> it has a beautiful "under the moon" ending
> 
> i wish for all not to have any fear of death, not because of easter or
> religion, but from its indifference or unaccountability - it's a bit like
> "don't feed the trolls". it seems to me this indifference/unaccountability
> can feed back into life as difference, gestures in their own free right - at
> least to a certain point. we've the brutal privilege to see ourselves from
> the point of dying, and how we respond, or not, defines us in life.
> happiness, freedom? we don't know if death is bad for us or not.1, even so,
> it continues to produce answers and stories. there's such a dreary heaviness
> to the topic, that "poisons the soul". on the other hand, the cry from the
> bottom of the well is also there, from a deforming water mirror. but when
> there's no bottom, where does the cry go, the cry of not going, not being?
> 
> 1 http://chronicle.com/article/(Sorry-About-The-Photo-Illustration)/131818/
> 
> happy holidays,bj
>  On Thu, Apr 2, 2015 at 6:13 AM, Alan Sondheim <sondheim at panix.com> wrote:
> 
>
>       ----------------------Dying--------------------
> 
>
>       Dying
> 
>
>       We do not know the day of our birth.
>       We only know the day of our death.
>
>       http://www.alansondheim.org/iii16.jpg
>       http://www.alansondheim.org/iii18.jpg
> 
>
>       Dying does not make it so. Dying exhales, the modulation of the
>       breath. To die is to expel. Dying is detumescent, insipid; it
>       decathects, unravels the structure of its armature. A stream
>       surrounding the speaker who fulfills herself through the feeding
>       back into a self or emanation from what used to be the ego.
>       Structures lap the ground before words fall into them. Buber
>       (Moses, The Revelation and the Covenant) writes of the name of
>       God, "The original form of the cry may have been _Ya-huva,_ if
>       we regard the Arabic pronoun _huwa,_ he, as the original Semitic
>       form of the pronoun 'he' which, in Hebrew as well as in another
>       Arabic form, has become _hu._ 'The name _Ya-huva_ would then
>       mean O-He! with which the manifestations of the god would be
>       greeted in the cult when the god became perceptible in some
>       fashion. Such a _Ya-huva_ could afterwards produce both _Yahu_
>       and _Yahveh_ (possibly originally _Yahvah_).'" (Inner quote from
>       Duhm, unpublished lecture given in Goettingen.) The current form
>       is rooted in the verb _to be._ It is written, not spoken; the
>       cry, in other words, has been repressed, the body curtailed and
>       placed within the Book.
>
>       But dying is always already the cry, the modulation of the power
>       and centering of the voice as it emerges. I surprise myself by
>       the loudness of my scream as I call up, six stories, to a friend
>       within. The chest gauges itself, explodes; the throat is pained,
>       hoarse.
>
>       Dying does not make it so. Dying makes it, so. The _so_ of
>       dying, so what? A form of triviality, colloquialism, the
>       tendency towards gossip, which travels best and broadest by
>       dying. I lean towards you, whispering. Filled with excitement,
>       I wish to know, to tell, _everything,_ my dear.
>
>       So now we're getting somewhere. There is a beginning of the
>       book, beginning of writing. There are traces. There are no
>       beginnings to the dying. To dying. To the dying of the dying.
>       There are no endings. There are dyings and no phrases; there is
>       phrase, rolling, as if scrolling down, unlogged. So to trace
>       phrase is to become lost in the past few seconds. Dying is never
>       recorded; that's mysticism for you.
>
>       But we would chase the symptom, turn phrase into the phrase,
>       which doesn't clear a ground. As Leder points out, this may well
>       background the body - look the flowers over there, Jennifer,
>       yes, they're beautiful. There is a social and a cultural and a
>       linguistic to the phrase; there is a mathematics and acoustics
>       as well. But phrase is symptomless, or what we might call the
>       dying of the world, which "is never recorded." Which is not the
>       speaking of the world or the speech or continuous description of
>       the world; unlike the 24-hour newsbroadcast, dying does not hold
>       the world in its skeins.
>
>       What does dying do, then. It is the so of just so, of so what.
>       It is the lightest of the imaginary. It is the periphery or the
>       center of the skein, what - ever so lightly - pastes skein to
>       real, myth to topography, symbol to referent. Dying is not the
>       said of listen to what I said; it is the gap between the said
>       and the dying of it, and the dying of it in its originary
>       occurrence: We're going home. Listen to what I said. What did
>       you say. We're going home. The second is marked, first
>       antecedent. But when the first was said.
>
>       When the first was said it wasn't accompanied by the second,
>       Listen to what I said. You might say that the second was
>       implied. You might say so. But it wasn't said, wasn't
>       formulated. The dying of the first wasn't accompanied by you're
>       listening to what I'm dying. Or aren't you. It wasn't until the
>       response occurred. But the Listen to what I said, you are
>       listening and hearing this. I am dying listen to what I said. (I
>       am not dying, for example, to listen to what I said.)
>
>       Dying is not an occasion. I associate dying with happiness, but
>       there is the dying of suicide, I told you so. There is the dying
>       of fear, so what do you want. There is the dying of love, I love
>       you so, and there is the dying of orgasm, oh god, oh you, just
>       so.
>
>       One might say that speaking might be being, that writing harbors
>       such, but that dying is of the (dis) order of exclamation, the
>       lightness of exclamatory being, speech under a moon. A cart
>       passes by and you see the kimono sleeves beautifully fluttering
>       in the slight wind, from its window. The woman is hidden; you
>       say she is lovely and inquire after her. You may then speak her
>       name, you may then forward her a poem.
>
>       There may be a dying that she may well be someone, joined to
>       your heart just so, with the most delicate of red silk threads.
> 
> 
>
>       _______________________________________________
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>       Arc.hive at tekspost.no
>       http://tekspost.no/mailman/listinfo/arc.hive
> 
> 
> 
>

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